• • •
I still hadn’t managed to come up with a believable explanation when I found Courtney and Max waiting at my locker the next morning. I almost escaped back the way I came, but I saw them see me.
I swallowed nervously and cautiously approached. “Haven’t seen you guys around these parts in a while,” I said.
They both just stared at me with big, fretful eyes. Yeah, they definitely knew something was up.
“How’s your arm?” Max asked.
I patted the thick bandage under my sweater. “I’ll live.”
“I called you last night,” he said.
“I know.”
“Oh. Okay.” Max’s glance darted to Courtney. He gave her a say something look.
She cleared her throat. “We, uh, cleaned up the mess yesterday like Evan told us to.”
I gave her a tight smile. “Thanks.” But I wasn’t about to elaborate.
I watched and waited as my two former best friends worked up the courage to ask me the question we all knew was coming.
Turned out Max was the braver one. “So…what was that all about, anyway?” he asked nonchalantly, tracing the floor tile edges with his toe.
Just make something up. Anything, the voice in my head urged.
But my mind was blank. All I was aware of was the endless mob of students flowing up and down the hall, pushing past us, all potential eavesdroppers.
I couldn’t tell them the truth, and I couldn’t make up a lie. I had no choice—there was only one way to get Max and Courtney off my back. Fighting against every instinct I had, I built up as much courage as I could and let it explode out of me.
“What do you care?” I yelled. “We’re not friends anymore, remember?”
Max flinched. “We’re just worried about you.”
“Oh, all of a sudden you’re worried. Well, maybe it’s too late, Max. Ever think of that?”
He held my gaze. “This isn’t you, Lucy.”
I let out a short laugh. “How would you know? You have no idea who I am anymore!” I slammed my locker door and left them there, bewildered.
Just keep walking, I ordered myself. And don’t look back.
The pain stabbing my heart was a thousand times sharper than any sword. But I’d bought myself some time. I would just have to come up with a good lie before they cornered me again.
• • •
The thing was, I hadn’t planned on it happening so soon.
I was setting my props backstage when Max tapped me on the shoulder. “Lucy.”
I steeled myself for another fight and whirled around to find him and Courtney standing uncomfortably close. I gave them both the evil eye. “What?”
“I talked to Evan,” he said with emphasis.
I sucked in my breath sharply, my heartbeat instantly doing the hundred-meter dash.
What did Evan tell him? Did they know? What were they thinking right now?
I searched Max’s face for clues but came up empty. He was always the best liar out of the three of us, because of his uncanny ability to remain reactionless during pretty much any situation. Courtney’s expression, on the other hand, was more revealing. She was chewing on the inside of her cheek—a telltale sign that she was troubled. Yes, something had definitely changed since this morning.
How much had Evan told them? Surely not everything. Not after all he went through yesterday just to protect my secret.
I had to find out what they knew.
“We can’t talk here,” I said. “Come with me.”
I coaxed the lighting team out of the light booth and shuffled Max and Courtney inside. We were alone. No chance of anyone overhearing. But that meant there was also nowhere to escape to. I’d never been claustrophobic, but I was suddenly feeling trapped.
I took a few long, deep breaths to steady myself, and then got straight to it. I needed to get out of there as soon as possible. “What did Evan tell you?”
“He didn’t say much. Just that it’s some sort of…medical issue. And that we should ask you to explain the rest,” Max said.
I let out a sigh of relief. A nondescript medical issue. That could mean anything. I could have something totally benign, like hay fever. Or high cholesterol. Or low blood sugar. Yes, that was it! My blood sugar was too low and that was why I’d gotten lightheaded. Evan had just overreacted, he was so sweet—but no. Of course they wouldn’t buy that. It didn’t even make sense.
“I’ve been going through it all over and over in my mind,” Max continued, scratching his head. “You have some sort of medical issue that is too big for Evan to tell us about. And yesterday he acted like your blood was dangerous. The only thing I can think of that makes blood dangerous is AIDS. And I know you don’t have that. So what is it, Lucy?”
I felt like I’d been kicked in the gut. He was so close to the truth, and yet he thought it impossible. How could I possibly confirm a truth so unbearable that he refused to even hypothetically consider it?
I met his gaze, my eyes stinging with tears.
Whatever he saw in my face, it made his own expression solemn. I could see him retracing his words, trying to figure out what he’d said that would have made me cry.
Courtney caught on before Max did. “You don’t…actually have AIDS?”
I looked down and rubbed my eyes hard with the heels of my palms, pushing back the moisture, not caring that I was probably smearing mascara all over my face. When I couldn’t stand the stupefied silence any longer, I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned to Courtney. “Not yet,” I said. “But I will.” If the meds didn’t do their job, anyway.
“HIV?” she whispered so softly that it was barely audible.
I nodded, gulping back the tears that were threatening reappearance. Max sank down to the floor in shock and Courtney just stared at me. I quickly looked away—I didn’t want to see the moment when disgust replaced the disbelief written on their faces.
“How?” I heard Courtney say.
There was no reason not to tell them the rest now. I fixed my gaze on the lighting board, fiddling with the little dials and knobs as I forced the word to pass through my lips. “Lee.”
The gasps of understanding came right away. Even after nearly two months of not speaking, all I had to do was utter one little name, and they understood exactly what I meant.
Just then Andre’s voice came through the speaker system announcing five minutes to places, and the lighting crew started pounding on the door. I wasn’t even in stage makeup or costume yet—it was the perfect excuse to get the hell out of there. I swiftly unlocked the door and let the displaced techies inside. “We have to go,” I muttered, not meeting Max or Courtney’s eyes, and bolted toward the balcony exit.
“What the hell did you do to my lighting board?!” one of the board operators yelled. I ignored him and kept running.
But Courtney and Max’s footsteps pursued me. “Lucy, wait!” Courtney called out.
I pretended not to hear.
“Lucy! Stop!” she yelled again.
There was something in her voice—something surprisingly authoritative—that made me stop in my tracks.
Here it comes. I held my breath as I braced myself for their hastily devised excuse as to why we couldn’t be friends after all.
But without a sound, they wrapped their arms around me and held me tight. All at once, the walls I’d put up around me collapsed and for several long minutes I was enveloped in warmth, security. It was the best feeling in the entire world.
I could have stayed there all day, but we pulled apart at the sound of, “Places!”
That’s when I saw the tears in their eyes. “Don’t cry,” I said. “Please.”
Max nodded and cleared his throat. “Come on, Luce,” he said, taking my hand, “let’s go put on the best show of our lives.”
The relief that flooded through me was so great that my radar barely even registered Elyse standing in the shadows of the balcony, her face stricken with pure terror.
35
Happiness
There was no time to stop and catch my breath. After my miraculous reconciliation with Max and Courtney, aka the two most supportive, awesome friends ever, I rushed to get into costume and at least give my makeup a cursory touchup before my big entrance in act 1, scene 4.
Between costume changes and scenery changes and everyone running around backstage working to keep up the pace, I couldn’t think about anything but the play. But that was good. I was glad to have something as permanent and timeless as Shakespeare to keep me grounded.
Evan caught up with me at intermission. “Max cornered me,” he confessed guiltily. “He demanded to know what’s going on. I didn’t know what to say—”
“Evan,” I said. “It’s okay. I told them.”
“You did?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“And it’s all fine.”
His face lit up. “See? I knew they’d be cool. And you were so worried. You don’t give people enough credit, Lucy.”
I gave him a look. “That might be true, but I still don’t want anyone else finding out.”
“Understood,” he said with a nod. “So have you given any more thought to what we talked about?”
Honestly, I hadn’t. I’d spent the entire night trying to come up with a way to dodge Max and Courtney. But it had only been a day since our conversation, and nothing had changed. “I meant what I said last night, Evan,” I said gently. “I need time.”
He nodded, a little dejectedly. “Okay. I’ll stop asking.”
I gave a tiny smile and patted him on the shoulder. “Patience, young grasshopper.”
Evan threw up his hands, laughing. “And she quotes Kung Fu! I really am in love with this girl.”
• • •
Evan and I were forced to replace our fancy swords with prop swords, but we couldn’t really object to that. We’d learned our lesson. The prop swords were lighter and easier to use, anyway. And now that we’d resolved our fight scene issues, the show was coming off without a hitch.
Or that was almost true.
No one knew what the hell was up with Elyse. Miss I’m-the-best-actress-in-the-world suddenly seemed to be battling a severe case of premature stage fright. She kept having to call out for lines—lines that she had known perfectly yesterday—and she missed her cue not once but four times.
I watched in delight from the wings as she fell flat on her face time and time again. Finally, someone other than me was messing everything up. It was just icing on the cake that it happened to be Elyse.
Andre decided at the last minute to turn the rehearsal into a double. He still refused to accept that the show was cursed and was on a fool’s quest to do whatever it took to get the production on its feet.
At six p.m., I called home.
“Dad?” I said. “I can’t go to the meeting tonight. Andre called a double rehearsal.”
“Forget it, Lucy. You haven’t been to a meeting in a week. Tell Andre you have a prior obligation.”
“You don’t understand—the show opens in three days! I have to be here.”
“Sorry, honey. No dice,” he said.
“But what am I going to tell Andre?” I protested.
“Tell him he doesn’t know how lucky he is that your parents are even still letting you be in the play after his negligence landed you in the hospital and with thirty stitches in your arm,” Dad retorted.
“Thirty-two,” I mumbled.
“Exactly.”
“There’s no way I’m telling him that.”
“I really don’t care what you tell him, Lucy. But you’re not missing the meeting.”
I sighed. “Fine. See you at home.”
I fed Andre some line about having a follow-up doctor’s appointment for my arm, and he let me go without protest. Dad must have been right about him feeling responsible for my injury, because when Chris Mendoza asked permission to go home early because he had to babysit his little sister, Andre told him to get back on stage and stop bothering him with his petty requests.
Thirty minutes later, I was in the car with my dads and Lisa, Manhattan-bound.
I hated having to share the backseat with Lisa. Every now and then I’d catch the reflection of her bratty pout in the window, and I had to stifle the urge to give her a swift roundhouse kick to the mouth.
“Is anyone going to explain to me where we’re going?” she whined.
“All you need to know is that Lucy has somewhere to be at eight, and we’re escorting her,” Papa replied serenely.
“But why do I have to come?”
Papa gave her a pitying look in the rearview mirror. “I’m just going to go ahead and let you figure that one out on your own, Lisa. Now, I know thinking is not your strong suit, but look on the bright side—at least you’ll have this little puzzler to keep you occupied for the next hour or so.”
I smiled. I was really enjoying this new take-no-crap attitude of his.
• • •
I was glad when we got to the meeting a little early, because I wanted to talk to Roxie. I found her arranging store-brand cookies on a platter, her emerald green fingernails twinkling under the church basement’s lights.
“Hey,” I said.
She looked up in surprise. “Lucy! You’re back!”
“Yeah, sorry. The snowstorm made traveling difficult.”
“Oh, that’s right. I always forget you come here from upstate.”
“Westchester is hardly upstate,” I said. “It’s only twenty-five miles away.”
Roxie laughed. “Sorry, didn’t mean to offend. But for real, I thought you were seriously pissed at me.”
I grimaced, remembering the last meeting. “I was. Actually, I still kind of am. Why did you do that, again?”
“I guess I thought it would help. My bad.” She looked up at me sheepishly.
“If I’m being honest…it might have.” I explained all about my fight with Lisa, and how we found out Lisa had been doing drugs this whole time.
“Whoa,” Roxie said, wide-eyed. “You’ve had a busy week.”
“Oh, that’s not even the half of it,” I said, and rolled up my sleeve to show her my battle wound. I told her about starting the meds, and what had happened with Evan and then with Max and Courtney. But I kept the Ty stuff to myself. I knew I shouldn’t have slept with him, for many reasons, and I was trying to convince myself that entire snowy Friday afternoon had never happened.
I didn’t know it then, but moving on from that mistake was going to be harder than I could have imagined.
I got home that night to a message waiting on the house line voicemail.
“Hello, this is Mr. Fisher, from Eleanor Senior High,” the voice said.
My principal? Why would he be calling?
“I’d like for Miss Moore to come meet with me in my office tomorrow morning before school. Say, seven a.m.? Thank you, see you then.” The message ended.
My dads and I stared at each other. What could that be all about?
36
(Ya Got) Trouble
I smoothed the wrinkles from the front of my skirt, took a deep breath, and knocked on Mr. Fisher’s office door. I’d talked my dads into staying home, but now I was regretting that decision. I had no idea what faced me on the other side of that door and I was suddenly feeling the need for backup.
I hadn’t even thought that Mr. Fisher knew who I was. I was a straight-A, problem-free honors student who never cut class and hung out with the drama kids. Maybe this was something he did with all the juniors, as a pre-SAT, pre-college application catch-up session? No, if he had the entire 600-member class to get through, the meeting would surely be during school hours and scheduled far in advance. This was an emergency.
The door swung open and Mr. Fisher looked down at me. I’d never been this close to him before—he was a lot taller than I’d thought, well over six feet. His mustache was redder than the rest of his hair, and his glasses were smudg
ed.
“Please come in, Miss Moore. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me,” he said, and closed the door behind us.
I wasn’t aware I’d had a choice. “Sure,” I said.
“Have a seat,” he said, and gestured to the high-backed leather chair across from his desk, before sitting in his own high-tech office chair. I hoisted myself into my seat, my feet dangling several inches above the floor. I wondered if he purposely kept this chair here to make the students sitting in it feel small. “You’re probably wondering what this is all about.”
“Actually, yeah,” I admitted. “Did I do something wrong?”
He hesitated, and I realized for the first time that he was nervous too. “No, no, no one is in trouble here,” he said.
“Okay…”
“I’ve received some rather…sensitive information, and I would like to speak with you about it,” he said, still avoiding specifics.
My eyes narrowed. “Regarding?”
“Regarding your…health.” He swallowed and forced himself to look me in the eye. “I assume you know what I mean?”
Of course I knew what he meant. But what I didn’t know was how the hell the principal of my school found out. My face flamed with alternating flashes of embarrassment and betrayal.
“Who told you?” I whispered.
“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say,” he said awkwardly.
I blinked. “Why?”
“There are certain confidentiality laws that come into play here…”
I stared at him for a long moment in shock, trying to figure out what to do. “Mr. Fisher,” I said slowly, “if you’re not going to tell me anything, why did you call me here?”
He cleared his throat. “I wanted to run something by you. As far as I know, you’re the first student at this school with…you know.”
“HIV,” I said pointedly. If he was allowed to make me feel uncomfortable, I was going to do the same to him.
“Indeed. Well, I thought this could be an excellent teaching opportunity. What would you think about leading an assembly on the importance of personal responsibility? I think you’re the perfect example of how something like this could happen to anyone. We could get the health teachers involved if you’d like, but I think the kids would really respond to you.”
My Life After Now Page 18